Scoundrel With A Noble Heart (sequel of Disgraceful)

Chapter 103

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"Matthew?" A vibration ran through Marguerite's voice, her hand trembling as she cradled his face.

"Matthew! Open your eyes!" She begged, but his eyes remained closed, his parted lips offering a silent answer. Tears soaked Marguerite's face as she clutched at his shirt, shaking his limp body as she repeated his name between wracking sobs. The world around her dissolved into a blur of colors and distant noises, pierced only by the panicked voice of the coachman,
"I swear that man ran into the carriage!"

Jacob, currently stirred from his daze, propped himself up on his elbows. His gaze swept over the scene and he froze as he registered what just happened. Despite the throbbing pain in his head, he struggled to his feet and staggered toward Marguerite.

"Maggie," He reached for her, but she shrugged off his touch, wrapping her arms tightly around Matthew's still body. Jacob's hand fell at the sting of her rejection, and a tide of regret mingled with the pain as his gaze fell upon Matthew's pallid face.

"Make way, I'm a doctor," A well-dressed, middle-aged man with graying hair pushed through the throng of spectators, kneeling beside them. He glanced at Jacob.
"Can you handle the young lady while I examine her husband?"

Jacob nodded, realizing with another pang the picture Marguerite and Matthew must have presented.

"Maggie, please," He said gently, "Let the doctor help." He helped her to her feet, guiding her away from Matthew.

The doctor placed a hand on Matthew's neck, feeling a pulse. His brow furrowed and his eyes widened for a tense moment. A choked sob escaped Marguerite, her hands flying to her mouth.

"He's not dead." the man announced, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd. Marguerite slumped against Jacob, would as well slide to the ground if not for his secure grip on her arms.

The doctor's hands probed Matthew's length as he searched for a fractured bone.
"Only broke his leg. Now I need some help removing him from here."

******

The sun had filtered through the sheer curtains in Matthew's chambers when he awoke in his bed the next morning. He squinted his eyes against the glaring light, propping himself up on his elbows as he tried to sit upright. A groan escaped him as a searing pain shot through his right leg, a stark reminder of the accident the previous night.

"Matthew? Are you alright?" A gentle, familiar voice sliced through his fog of pain. Marguerite's face appeared above him, concern etched into every line. He took a deep breath, trying to ease the throbbing, as memories flooded back.
He'd regained consciousness shortly after being brought to the doctor's practice, a mere two blocks away from the scene of the accident. Apparently, the physician had managed to fix his fractured bone in place, though the doctor's words echoed in his mind: "You're lucky to be in no worse shape, but it will take months for your leg to heal completely."

Amidst the shock, a blurry fragment remained; Marguerite had refused to leave his side, insisting on staying with him through the night. He himself had drifted off after taking the medication, only stirring awake now.

Marguerite swiftly arranged pillows behind his head and back, then poured a glass of water. With a hand on his back for support, she brought the glass to his lips. The cool water soothed the dryness in his throat, a welcome sensation against the persistent pain.

"Thank you, Maggie," he mumbled, dropping his head back and closing his eyes as he waited for the pain to recede. He felt a gentle touch of cotton at his chin, Marguerite's soft fingers slightly brushing his skin as she dabbed away a cool, escaping drop. He opened his eyes to meet Marguerite's gaze. Her hand fell away, and an awkward silence descended.